


XLVIII

by DexxxtroDNA



Series: Off Duty [1]
Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Alcohol, Alien Cultural Differences, American Football, Cars, Commercials, Cultural Differences, Football, Gen, Look Dex can write gen fic!, Sports, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-04
Updated: 2014-02-04
Packaged: 2018-01-11 03:55:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1168379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DexxxtroDNA/pseuds/DexxxtroDNA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There seemed to be a lot of activity surrounding an event known as the Super Bowl, which resembled some strange cross between a game of lob and the old gladiator fights.</p>
            </blockquote>





	XLVIII

**Author's Note:**

> I usually enjoy the Super Bowl as an excuse for friends, beer, and hot wings. But this year, even someone like myself who knows nothing about the sport was incredibly bored. So I wrote this to entertain myself.

The _Nemesis_ , 2 February 2014, Local Time

One of the Radio Transmission Officers had cobbled together a bunch of scrap he had saved or won in gambling and constructed a crude device that recieved incoming radio signals in the 30–300 MHz range. Then the electromagnetic waves were translated into an extremely low resolution and shaky visual on an ancient viewscreen.

There seemed to be a lot of activity surrounding an event known as the Super Bowl, which resembled some strange cross between a game of lob and the old gladiator fights. The rules or who was supposed to do what and when made ABSOLUTELY no sense until someone got into the Terran networks and downloaded well, _everything_.

Communications Intelligence Division, of course.

He quickly wrote up an abridged version and beamed it to everyone else crammed in the cargo bay.

"So...the orange team is fighting the blue team because they beat out the other teams, and now's the championship?"

“Yep.”

“I still don’t get why they don’t just run all the way across and throw it between the goal sticks.”

More explanation followed, the rules still seeming arcane. Someone snuck in a few cubes of midgrade and they were passed around happily.

“American Beer! Best served super ICE COLD!” the tinny speakers blared.

“Why the frag would anyone want to stick frozen liquids in their _intake?_ Brrr.”

“I don’t know, sounds dumb to me. Guess the squishies don’t got pipes that can freeze up and crack.”

“Well _I’m_ going to stick to properly warmed energon, _with_ all of the nutrients, don’t know why they’re trying to sell low octane slag.”

“Did you hear about how they engineered some of their altmode vehicle things to run on the stuff?!”

“Ew, no.”

“That sounds like it would suck.”

“Shut UP this one’s got a brawny grounder, don’t know what the Pit else is going on, but if he were a Cybertronian…”

“Pff we all know you like the blocky ones with the big engines --”

“-- too bad Breakdown is taken --”

“--oh he sure is ‘rugged,’ am _not_ gonna deny them there.”

The random assortment of Eradicons and Vehicons continued to watch the game, growing increasingly perplexed as the blue team rapidly gained points while the orange team “fumbled” constantly and consistently failed to acquire points, despite making decent gains of enemy territory of “yardage.”

“I don’t get it. Every major communications network I’ve scanned has said they anticipated this to be an evenly balanced match.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“Someone feed ‘em too many rust sticks?”

“Actually…if the Seabirds manage to keep the Horses from scoring any touch-downs, they will win the achievement of being the first to totally annihilate the other team.”

“Really?”

“Alright. ‘S kinda fun to see them fight against the others so hard not to _totally_ lose.”

“Autobutts, am I right?” Cubes clinked together.

Soon enough, the middle point of the game was announced, and there was much excitement over something referred to as Half Time.

This was unfortunately an extended session of organic warbling, briefly interrupted by more pleasant staccato rhythms, and then a very long segment of noises that seemed to provoke emotional responses in the massed organics.

Eventually, the game returned, and eventually, the beleaguered orange team managed to score SOME points. But the mock war dragged on and on.

Finally, there were additional interruptions to show short clips of other things the squishies seemed to like. And some Cybertronians could appreciate, too.

“...Maserati.”

“Ohhhh scrap that one is starting to approach Doc Knock levels of sleek right there!” A loud bang on the helm.

“Don’t let him hear you say that!”

“I said ‘approaching’.”

“Still, you compared him to some sparkless, alien-built --”

“--really fragging pretty!”

“--machine!”

“We’re machines you idiot.”

“Yeah, but we’re alive, that thing’s just well, y’know, don’t transform or talk or nuthin’.”

“Oh frag you, a mech that turned into something like that would be hot, and you know it.”

“...Mm _hmm_.”

Attention drifted away from the viewscreen as the collection of off-duty Decepticons debated what else to do with their shift.

The game ended - the blue team obviously crushed the other team - and the collection of ‘cons hauled themselves off to recharge, or one unlucky one had to go out to run a maintenance shift.

“So, there any more things like this? It was kinda fun.”

“Well, there’s a lot of chatter about something called the ‘Olympics’.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of the larger series known as _Off Duty_ , which will be a collection of shorts featuring non-officer Decepticon original characters and what life is like on the _Nemesis_.


End file.
